


The Way is the Goal

by Shiyaki



Series: Coming Home [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Don't mess with a Maurauder's offspring, Femslash, Gryffindor's Sword, Harry is done with reasearching, Harry's Saving People Thing, M/M, Male Slash, Mischief, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rivendell, Stuffy elves, little half-elfling, you'll regret it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiyaki/pseuds/Shiyaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshots about what happened prior to, inbetween and after the happenings of 'Poison'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Poison turned out different than what I had planned, why wouldn’t the pairing? In Poison it was supposed to be Elrond x Harry… yeah, didn’t happen. This time you’ll be a bit closer to knowing just whose offspring Eiren is.

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

Harry turned the page of the book he was currently perusing, but his attention had long since shifted to the person standing in the doorway of the library. If war hadn’t taught him how to notice the distinct feeling of being watched, then Middle Earth with all its dangerous creatures would have done the job.

**Constant Vigilance!**

And all that.

It had certainly saved his life more than once.

The brunet caught a deep chuckle, followed by the barely audible rustling of cloth – the only indication of movement. Seconds later the person stepped close enough to be visible in his peripheral vision and Harry was, yet again, unbelievably thankful to Gandalf for fixing the blurry mess that had been his eyesight.

Finally foregoing the pretence of reading, the wizard focused his gaze on the male elf and eyed him unashamedly. He was tall and wore his dark, straight hair long and in braids– like just about every elf Harry’d ever encountered, especially in Imladris. If not for the eyes, the male next to him would have been just another face to be forgotten as soon as the elf was out of his sight. They reminded him just enough of Sirius to make his heart ache even after all these years. Not only were they steel-grey in colour, they also held a hint of darkness and pain mixed with copious amounts of mischievousness.

A _prankster_ then. Probably.

“Can I help you?” Harry had been in the ‘last homely home’ for about a week now and though he had got some curious glances here and there, he had not been subjected to blatant staring until now.

The elf grinned and sat down on one of the ornately decorated chairs. The effortless grace he displayed while doing so was, admittedly, a bit annoying.

“I have not been in Imladris for quite a while, so when I came home and heard about a friend of Mithrandir’s being our guest, my curiosity was roused,” the elf commented smirking and idly unrolled one of the yellowed scrolls. He skimmed the contents, raised a dark eyebrow and took an intrigued look at the stack of books next to Harry, which were mainly about the Valar and the world beyond Middle Earth. “Interesting reading choice.”

Harry couldn’t help staring. He had met quite a few elves during his research, but none of them had seemed quite at ease as the one in front of him. A lot of them were haughty bastards with a stick up their arse. The exact opposite was comprised of the kind, but usually still reserved elves. And Thandruil... Thandruil was in a class of his own. At least in this world. He wouldn’t have been out of place next to the Malfoys, however.

A poke to his forehead pulled the brunet out of his musing.

“I know, I am a handsome fellow and you can’t help yourself, but please _do_ try to pay attention.”

Harry scowled and rubbed the poor abused spot. Perhaps the elf was a bit _too_ at ease, but his company wasn’t entirely unwelcome anyway and the brunet’s research wasn’t progressing anytime soon. Or ever.

Harry had been in Middle Earth for quite some time now and most of it had been spent in libraries of various races or travelling from place to place. He _may_ have helped – read rescued - a person or two, as well. In the beginning he had been quite determined to find a way back to his friends, his godson and his family of choice, but as the years passed, the continued search for information had been more out of habit and lack of anything else to do than the belief of actually finding something noteworthy. Not even Gandalf, Galadriel or Elrond – beings that had dwelled on Middle Earth for millennia - had a solution for his plight.

_Of course_ he still wanted to see the people he had left behind, but what would happen if he _did_ manage to get back at this point? How many years had passed in the world he had been born into? Was anyone even still alive? What would they think about his lack of aging?

The elf uttered a very dramatic, long-suffering sigh next to him.

“Well, since you seem to be too busy drifting off to appreciate my splendid company and I still have to seek out _ada (father)_ , I will come find you another time, _tithen curunír (little wizard)_. Look forward to it!” The still nameless elf flashed him another grin and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Taken by surprise by the abrupt departure, Harry stared at the empty chair for a long while. He hadn’t meant to get caught up in his own thoughts, especially when the company was promising, but he was, unfortunately, very adept at brooding.

And now his mind had something new to ponder.

* * *

 

The next day Harry forwent going to the library. Instead he took his time exploring Imladris – something he hadn’t really done before. The blending of stone, water and greenery reminded him uncannily of Hogwarts and its grounds. Not to mention the vibrant magic wafting through the air. It was a soothing place and - though he had seen many beautiful sights during his journey - his favourite by far.

Two hours into his walk through breathtaking gardens and over narrow bridges, the brunet found what appeared to be the archery training ground. It was currently occupied by several elves of either sex, but only two of them had managed to catch his attention.

It had been just this morning during breakfast when Lord Elrond had spoken of his two sons – Elladan and Elrohir -, who had got into the habit of running around with the Dúnedain of the North.He had _not_ mentioned that they were identical twins, however.

One of them stood to the side, watching, while the other was the epitome of concentration – which wasn’t surprising, considering his intention of hitting a target that was ridiculously far away, even by elven standards.

Harry stepped a bit closer and couldn’t help holding his breath, when the arrow was released. It darted through the air like a Firebolt at its best and finally met the target with a – to him – barely audible thud.

Bull’s eye.

The brunet released his breath with a whooshing sound. The keen eyesight of elves was, of course, well-known, but seeing the target didn’t automatically mean the arrow had enough drive to reach it, just like spotting the snitch was no guarantee for being able to catch it.

“ _Elo muindor (Lo and behold dear brother)_ , he ventured out of the library on his own! Do you think it is due to my charming demeanour?”

Harry eyed the approaching elf on the right - the one who had shot the arrow – and snorted softly.

“Maybe it would have been, had I met you before _now_.”

Both brothers blinked simultaneously, then shared a _Look_. It wasn‘t hard to guess, what they thought, though. At first Harry may have been reminded of his godfather due to the colouring, but now his mind conjured up the image of two people who had also liked to indulge in mischief, especially in the form of switching their identities. Few people had been capable of telling them apart.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve been friends with identical twins for _years_. I’ve learned to look for the differences,” Harry commented and idly gazed at the barely visible scar on left elf’s pointed ear. Neither brother seemed to notice.

“And how do we differ in your eyes?”

The brunet grinned and shook his head.

“Oh, I don’t think, I’ll tell you. You’ll try to trick me again. And _talking about_ _tricking_ -” Harry’s grin quickly turned into a smirk, when he stepped closer to the twins and twisted their dark wisps of hair around his fingers. “-this is payback.”

It would be quite easy to tell them apart, when one twin sported pink hair and the other baby blue.

_**Rule numer one: Never try to prank a Maurauder’s son.** _


	2. Battle Instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* I don’t like this chapter, but I’ve rewritten this about 5 million times already and by now I don’t think I’ll ever be happy with it so… yeah.

“Can I interest you in a friendly crossing of swords?”

Harry whirled around, drew his wand and uttered the first syllable of a _confringo_ , before his mind managed to catch up to his battle-honed instincts. By then it was far too late to stop the spell from forming and ultimately leaving his wand. Panicked green eyes locked with surprised silver ones as the bright red energy ball whizzed through the air, bursting into blazing fire when it finally collided with its target.

Breathless, the brunet slowly lowered his slightly trembling hand and stared at the rubble that had been a masterfully crafted balustrade only moments ago. From the corner of his eye he saw the elf - Elrohir by the looks of it - fingering some singed hair strands. Those were fortunately the only signs of bodily harm the other male had suffered from the spell Harry had derailed in the split second it had remained in his control. The wizard didn’t want to think about the gruesome picture his curse would have painted, had it found its original target, but the image unwittingly crept to the front of his mind’s eye and mingled with memories of spell-caused bloodshed and death long past.

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, you know?” Elrohir finally commented with a wry grin, successfully pulling the brunet out of his gloomy thoughts. He really ought to stop drifting off, especially when his brooding had led to his inattention and, thus, this situation in the first place. Moody would have had his head!

“I... uh...” Oh Merlin, what was he supposed to say or do? A simple ‘Sorry for almost blowing you up.’ just wouldn’t cut it. He had, after all, just attacked an elf without any real provocation. One of Lord Elrond’s sons no less! The brunet idly wondered if the guards were already on their way to capture him. What did elves do with their prisoners anyway?

Then again, they were on the outskirts of the city, close to one of the training grounds and Harry had noticed that some of the elves liked to spar a bit rougher.

“Do not worry so much. I’m aware that you didn’t plan to harm me on purpose. Please accept my apologies for startling you.” The brunet elf bowed elegantly, his right hand resting above his heart.

Harry’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “NO! I mean, no, it was my fault. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings and I’m _really_ sorry for attacking you. Are you injured?”

When Elrohir negated his question, the brunet hesitantly stepped closer to take a more thorough look at the other male and fortunately couldn’t see any wounds either. He couldn’t help but notice the elf’s still bright blue hair, however, and winced.

Great, now he even felt guilty about _that,_ although it had been payback in answer to the twin’s prank. Perhaps he should change it back? It was the least he could do, right? And speaking – well, thinking – of which, he should probably repair the balustrade he had destroyed, too. Facing the rubble and wincing yet again, the brunet cast a quick _reparo_ and watched on as the stones reassembled. The result was satisfactory but nowhere near perfect. Some pieces had simply been ground to dust and blown away by the wind. Another flick of his wand turned the blue hair back to black, making the singed parts less obvious.

Well, at least it soothed his guilty consciousness somewhat.

“Oh.” Elrohir, who had, up till then, silently observed the reconstruction, noticed the change of colour momentarily and fingered the small, dark braid that usually rested against his collarbone. “I had planned to ask for this as my prize,” the elf mused softly, before he offered Harry a small smile. “You have my gratitude for reversing the spell.” The elf paused for a moment, before the smile slowly shifted into something a bit sharper. “Elladan will be quite envious.”

“Price? What for?” Harry had barely acknowledged the thanksgiving, too caught up in pondering over the other’s muttered words.

“In case I won the sword fight,” the older brunet replied obligingly. The confident grin, tugging at the corners of Elrohir’s lips, left no questions open as to who he thought would have been the victor.

Harry slowly blinked and remained silent.

“I asked you for one, when I arrived here,” the elf elaborated with a raised eyebrow and patted the hilt of his sword for emphasis. Then he uttered a deep sigh. “And when I took you by surprise... You likely have not heard my inquiry...”

“Oh... you, uh, you wanted to _spar_ with me?” Harry asked somewhat incredulously and squinted at the taller male. “With _swords_? Uhm... **_no_**.” He quickly held his hands up in what he hoped was the universal sign of refusal. “Sorry, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Elf. I’m probably the worst person in this city you could have asked. I have absolutely no skills whatsoever.”

Looking utterly unimpressed, Elrohir pointedly looked at the sword hilt sticking out of Harry’s cloak.

“Why then, Mr. Wizard, are you running about with a sword of your own?”

The shorter brunet followed the elf’s gaze and stared at the silvery pommel belonging to Gryffindor’s sword. He had almost forgotten that it was there, to be honest. Humming softly, Harry pulled it out of the magically reinforced scabbard and regarded it for a long moment.

“It’s a family heirloom and even a small nick means certain death. That’s why I’m carrying it around; it would be too dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Even if I had agreed to spar with you, I wouldn’t have used this blade for it,” the wizard explained and resheashed the dangerous weapon.

“I assume poison is involved,” Elrohir stated surly and Harry idly flicked his gaze from the other’s dark expression to the clenched hands. The knuckles were already turning a stark white. The brunet had no idea what had happened to evoke such an intense reaction, but he had a fair idea. Harry had met a horrifying race on Middle Earth that used poison coated weapons.

Orcs.

Nasty, smelly creatures that were, unfortunately, resistant to a lot of his spells – like _stupefy_ or _petrificus totalus_. That lesson had been learnt the hard way and resulted in a broken arm, several deep cuts and a concussion. It had also led to his first encounter with Gandalf, who had shown him the ropes of Middle Earth.

Perhaps he _should_ learn how to fight with a sword. Striking it randomly at enemies, while trying to avoid chopping off own body parts was in no way practical.

“The blade is made out of a special kind of metal that absorbs everything that strengthens it. It’s come into contact with the strongest snake venom I know,” Harry explained and ruffled up the hair at the back of his head. He was still musing about his ‘epiphany’.

Finally the brunet uttered a deep sigh.

“This might be a bad time...” Due to the lingering guilt Harry at least _felt_ like it was a terrible moment to voice his question, but couldn’t help it. He knew that he would come into contact with orcs and all kinds of other sinister beings again and sooner rather than later the twins would rejoin the Rangers of the North. He was therefore operating in a short window of opportunity and had no choice but to ignore his feelings of awkwardness. “-but may I ask you for a favour?”

The elf raised an eyebrow, but inclined his head.

“State your request.”

_**Rule numer two: Don't sneak up on a warrior.** _


	3. Reason for Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, still alive... and determined to finish this fic.

Twisting his foot slightly to get a firmer stand, Harry parried the incoming strike with his own sword. Several more blows followed in quick succession, before the brunet managed an attack of his own, which was swatted away like an annoying fly. With gritted teeth and a low growl, Harry tried again and again and again, always with the same result. He was tempted to use magic to give himself an edge, but knew it was his pride talking. It didn’t want another kick in the arse and neither did he.

The brunet refrained reluctantly and raised his arms for another strike, giving his opponent the perfect opportunity to kick Harry’s legs from underneath him. The wizard tumbled to the ground, a place he unfortunately knew very well by now. Directing his glare first at the pointed blade in front of his face, then at its wielder, the brunet heaved himself into a sitting position and rubbed his aching calf.

Elrohir countered the dark expression with an amused smirk and held out his hand after re-sheathing his sword.

“Falling for me yet again, I see.”

Instead of accepting the offered help, Harry sent a stinging hex the elf’s way, though Elrohir didn’t even have the decency to flinch. Perhaps he had already developed immunity to that particular spell; he had certainly experienced it enough times. Sure, Harry was grateful for the lessons and liked spending time with the other male, but the elf was a smug, little prat more often than not.

“Now now, no need sulk, _tithen curunír_. This time you managed a full ten minutes!” And honestly, that _was_ a feat. In the beginning of his sword training, Harry had not even lasted half a minute against the elf, but now, a few months later, he managed a couple of minutes of Elrohir (mostly) putting away the kid gloves.

He _had_ made tremendous progress, but Harry would probably never be as good as a being several hundred ( _thousand?_ ) years his senior. An elf to boot. Losing time after time was still frustrating, though.

“Exactly how I left you.”

Sighing, Harry glanced to the person on the steep, stony staircase that connected the secluded training field by the river to the Elven city further up the cliff. As he was wont to do, Elladan had watched the daily sword-fighting lesson, but had disappeared half-way through only to turn up now with a basket and an amused grin curling his lips.

Instead of climbing down the last couple of steps, the elf leapt and landed, light-footed as ever, on the grass at the bottom of the stairs. One of Elladan’s hands dropped into the basket and resurfaced with an apple, which sailed swiftly through the air moments later.  Harry caught the tasty fruit easily and bit into it with relish. For now, his frustration was soothed.

“My hero,” the wizard declared, his mouth still half-full, but not caring.

“Always at your service.” Elladan sketched a playful bow, while shooting a smug smirk at his brother, which his twin answered with a disgruntled frown. Harry raised a bemused eyebrow, but decided not to question the silent communication. Instead he got off the hard earth of their training space and walked to the lush spot which harboured Gryffindor’s sword during their lessons.

Upon listening to a few of Harry’s stories, some featuring the achievements of his blade, the twins had decided – all by themselves - to dub it _lhûgdagnir_ , which basically meant ‘Snake  Slayer’ in Sindarin. Apparently all great swords needed a great name based on their deeds… The brunet didn’t much care and still referred to it as ‘Gryffindor’s sword’ anyway.

“Dan…” Harry frowned at Elrohir’s apprehensive tone – he seldom sounded like that - and redirected his attention to the brothers. Elladan was nibbling half-heartedly on a pear-shaped fruit that tasted like nothing the wizard had ever eaten, while his twin was staring blank-faced at something in the basket. “…is this…”

“Indeed, a missive from Arathorn.  He is enquiring about our return plans. We have already been here longer than planned, after all,” Elladan explained, gravely staring at the fruit in his hand, but looking up upon hearing a dull thud.

A half eaten apple lay forgotten next to the wizard’s left boot, the hand, which had held it, still raised in mid-air. Harry’s mind was in a frenzy. He had known this day would come, when the twins would leave Imladris to return to the Dúnedain, but…

The brunet had wandered through Middle Earth for ages, always looking for clues to get home, even though he had quickly lost hope and with it most of his enthusiasm for just about everything. Elrohir, and to a slightly lesser extent, Elladan had somehow saved him from that miserable existence.

Sure, it wasn’t like being back in his old world, with his friends and family of choice and the twins had a penchant for smugness and utterly annoying innuendos – not unlike another pair of twins he knew -, but, at least for the moment, they were his reason for _living_ , not just existing. In the last few month they had laughed, teased each other, trained and shared stories and Harry couldn’t quite cope with the thought of it being all over. With the loneliness returning.

And he wouldn’t let that possibility become reality!

“Hey, do you think the Dúnedain would object to the help of a wizard with mediocre sword skills?”

The responding brilliant smile was the only answer he needed.

**_Rule number 3: If you wish to have something, you have to work for it._ **


	4. Thinking outside the Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot longer than I had planned... but, oh well, have fun reading.

When Harry woke up, he _really_ wished he hadn’t. The brunet had a head-ache the size of Hogwarts and for some odd reason his left shoulder ached quite a lot, as well. Had he fallen off his broom during a Quidditch game, again? No wait, he wasn’t in school anymore and the Battle of Hogwarts was a thing of the past, too…

An Auror case gone wrong, perhaps?

No, still too far in the past and there was also something niggling in the back of his mind...

Taking long, deep breaths, Harry tried to sort through his jumbled memories, putting them back into their respective boxes like he had learnt during his _real_ Occlumency lessons in the Auror academy. Finally he reached a piece that explained the dark, desperate feel of a huge chunk of the yet unsorted memories in one corner of his mind scape.

He wasn’t in his world anymore. 

Geoffrey Shafiq, an unmarked, former death eater, had cursed Harry during an Auror raid on his house. The brunet had momentarily passed out and woken up – sans glasses - on rocky ground near a mountain range during sunset. Shortly thereafter he had been attacked by a few foul creatures, which had been pretty much immune to anything but his strongest offensive spells. Being half-blind during the fight hadn’t helped either. One of the creatures had managed to break his wand arm, forcing him to drop his wand. Before all hope had been lost, though, Harry had felt a sudden weight in his pouch - which had a **_weightless_** charm on it. Not thinking twice, the brunet had reached into it and drawn out Gryffindor’s Sword – which was supposed to be in Hogwarts  - with his left hand. He had clumsily pushed the blade through the creature’s chest, while the last beast had been felled by a convenient newcomer, who had later introduced himself as Gandalf.

The grey cloaked stranger had somehow healed his sight and greatly alleviated his injuries, before taking him to a place called Lothlórien. During their trip, Gandalf had taken on the task of telling him the basics about Middle Earth and its inhabitants. Unfortunately the wizard – or, as they were better known as, the istari – had had no idea how to send him back home.

The Lady of the Golden Wood, Galadriel, had likewise been clueless and thus Harry’s research had begun, while Gandalf had taken off to do whatever he had been planning to do prior to meeting the brunet. The wizard had spent quite some time in Lórien, painstakingly working his way through books and scrolls and learning one Elvish language or two. He had had a relatively friendly rapport with some of the elves, but it had never got deeper than that.

In the end, Harry had to move on and his way had led him north-east to the elves living in Mirkwood. The brunet had instantly disliked Thranduil, though his son Legolas and a few other elves hadn’t been so bad. After receiving reluctant permission for his research, Harry had basically holed himself up in the library and only come out to eat and sometimes to sleep.

A few months later had seen him on the road again. Harry had bypassed Erebor and Esgaroth, having heard of Smaug in Mirkwood and having been unwilling to take on an unknown dragon species on his own.

The dwarf of the Iron Hills had categorically refused his requests to use their library. In fact, he hadn’t even been allowed to set a foot into their mountain.

The people of Rohan and Gondor had been a lot more welcoming, but unfortunately they had had a lot less to offer in terms of books and scrolls than the elves and what the dwarfs probably had stowed away in their mountains.

By then Harry had mostly lost hope to ever get back home, but he had still wandered along the coast to the Grey Haven and then, through Eriador, to Imladris. There he had met Elladan and Elrohir, the slightly annoying but still likeable twin sons of Lord Elrond, and befriended them. He had even, after about half a year, followed them to the Dúnedain, which had been surprised, but had welcomed him readily enough. Harry had made a surprising number of friends amongst the rangers, among them Arador, the chieftain.  During a scouting mission they had been ambushed by a great number of orcs and then… 

Harry frowned and took a look around his mind scape. The ground was free of anything but mangled, fuzzy shards and every attempt to piece them back together or clear them up was met with a worsening of the pounding in his head. Finally the brunet admitted defeat and directed his attention to the world outside his body.

His bleary eyes confirmed, what his other senses had already noticed – the nest of blankets and furs he was lying in belonged to Harry’s tent in the Ranger encampment. The brunet didn’t hear breathing or any other sound indicating the presence of another person, but that didn’t mean he was alone. Both elves and Dúnedain were known for stealth.

Harry slowly turned his head to the side and noticed a figure sitting a few feet from his resting place, polishing a sword. The blade was already glinting in the warm glow of the fire, but Harry knew that tell by now. Elrohir only ever took care of his blade like that, when he was thinking deeply about something or to calm down.

The sound coming out of Harry’s mouth was barely a croak, but fortunately Elrohir heard him anyway. With a half-strained, half relieved smile on his lips, the older male quickly but carefully laid his sword to the side and got up to pour water into a cup.

The elf crouched next to Harry and wriggled his free arm under his back to raise the wizard’s torso up, before bringing the cup to his lips. “You’re an idiot,” Elrohir proclaimed in a husky voice. Harry frowned slightly, but mostly concentrated on drinking his fill. He already felt a bit better, but the headache was still a persistent, little bugger. The brunet cleared his throat and tried to speak again and though his voice was still raw and quiet, it was at least audible this time. “Thanks. What happened? Can only remember the beginning of the ambush.”

“We prevailed, then you suddenly appeared in front of Gwanyc and took an arrow to the shoulder, which would have pierced his heart. You managed to take the responsible orc down with a cutting spell, though a downed, yet still alive orc, yanked at your leg and you hit your head on a rock. We quickly finished off the rest.” Elrohir looked murderous, a clear contrast to the usually easy-going elf. The hands laying the brunet back down, however, were very gentle.

“We wanted to take care of the poison in your shoulder, but it… it was disintegrating, even before we pulled the arrow out.”  Harry nodded slightly, he was pretty much immune to poison, probably due to the basilisk poison – phoenix tears mix his body had been subjected to in his youth. “Then we brought you back to the camp. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

The brunet studied Elrohir with half-lidded eyes, noticing the older male’s knit brow, the downturned corners of his mouth, the set jaw.

“I’m fine.”

The elf looked utterly unimpressed. “I beg to differ.”

Harry couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine, then, so stop looking so glum.”

Instead of doing so, Elrohir gritted his teeth further and balled his hands into fists. “You…!” He dropped his chin to his chest, his hands trembling slightly. Harry blinked in surprise and reached out, but the elf got to his feet, glaring at the brunet with stormy eyes.

“A few inches to the right and you’d be dead. Or if your head had hit the rock harder-… you…” Obviously frustrated, Elrohir turned away, crossing his arms. The fingers gripping the silver-grey cloak were quickly turning white. Harry got up, his head still pounding, but determined. His body decided to sabotage his effort further by causing a sudden dizzy spell, causing him to stumble. Arms caught him, before he had a chance to acquaint himself with the ground. Without further ado Harry embraced the agitated, tense elf and dropped his head on his shoulder. He usually wasn’t the hugging type, but the brunet found he didn’t mind at all if it was Elrohir, especially if he was securely wrapped in the elf’s arms like now.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, but I couldn’t let him die. I saw the archer, but Gwanyc was too far away to warn and there were too many people to get a clean shot at the orc, so I apparated to him. I only wanted to push Gwanyc aside, but I got there too late. The arrow struck my shoulder instead,” Harry explained, remembering the happenings again. He leant back to look at Elrohir’s face and offered him a crooked smile.

“I’m pretty tough. You won’t be rid of me that easily.” He had been almost killed a couple of times and been dead once and yet he was still around. The elf stayed silent, but regarded him a lot calmer. Finally Elrohir snorted. “Now I know what you meant by ‘having a saving-people thing’. I’m on my way to getting grey hair, am I not?”

Harry shrugged cheekily. “I’ll turn it back to black for you, free of charge.”

Elrohir grinned slightly, but quickly turned serious again. “Please promise me that you’ll be more careful. I know you can take care of yourself, but even if you’re “pretty tough” you aren’t… you could still die easily if you recklessly jump into action like this time and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand loosing you.” His arms tightened and his cheeks flushed slightly.

Harry blinked, his heart skipping a beat.

“What…?”

Elrohir looked hesitant for a moment, but then determination flickered through his silvery eyes. “The first time I saw you, back in the library of Imladris, I noticed the resignation in your eyes and the loneliness weighing heavily on your shoulders. Right then I decided to… help you. I was surprised when you ventured outside on your own the very next day and even more so when you asked me for sword lessons.

When we started to spend so much time together, I quickly grew to like you.  I like your mischievous side, especially because it’s not visible at first glance. I like how you help other people without expecting a reward, though you apparently have the tendency to put the lives of other people above your own. I also like how determinedly you work to achieve something that’s important to you. I-” Elrohir sighed and fell silent, giving the wizard a chance to absorb the revelation.

Harry gaped, beet-red and speechless. He hadn’t known the older male felt this way, which, perhaps, wasn’t particularly surprising. The brunet was known to be a bit oblivious to such things, after all. It therefore took him a long moment to kick his thought process back into gear.

He wasn’t in love with Elrohir, that much was clear. The elf was important to Harry, however, and he quite liked spending time with him, otherwise he wouldn’t have accompanied Elrohir to the Dúnedain. But the same could be said about Elladan...

The brunet tried to picture kissing either twin, thereby rekindling the blush on his cheeks. It wouldn’t be a hardship in either case, but while the imagined situation with Elladan was simply ‘alright’, the thought of kissing Elrohir caused his heart to beat a little bit faster.

“I’m sorry, I… uh… haven’t noticed. And… uhm… I can’t promise you anything, but I’d be willing to try, if that’s alright with you?” The wizard proposed haltingly, blushing furiously but holding the other’s gaze.

Elrohir blinked in surprised, then stared at Harry for a long moment, before he finally pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of the brunet’s mouth.

“That would make me very happy. But first we shall get you back to bed.” The familiar, easy grin was back on the elf’s lips. “The only reason you haven’t collapsed, yet, is because I’m holding you upright and I’m certain your head still hurts, as well.” He shuffled Harry back to the blanket and fur nest and helped him down. “We can resume our talk, when you feel better.” He pressed another kiss to Harry’s temple, which the brunet endorsed with a contend sigh. The short surge of adrenaline was already ebbing away and leaving him tired again.

But he hadn’t been this optimistic in ages.

**_Rule number 4: Don’t try subtle advances on Harry Potter. They won’t work anyway._ **


	5. Bound for Eternity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand chapter 5. We’re getting closer to the finishing line, guys.

Harry critically studied his mirror reflection like he had done for the last half hour. He eyed the green, elaborately embroidered tunic and the finely crafted circlet above his brow - Which made him look utterly ridiculous, by the way. Lastly his gaze wandered to the silver ring, which had adorned his hand for a year and a half. Today the betrothal ring would be exchanged for its marriage equivalent.

The brunet idly twisted the band from side to side and thought back. Like quite a few big steps in Elrohir’s and Harry’s life, this moment had taken its roots on a scouting mission…

~*~

“…-are really certain?”

“Dan…, you have asked me this very question at least a dozen times. Yes, I _am_ sure! I have considered-“

“Father will not be happy about losing his son like this… neither am I about losing my brother.”

“You are making it sound like I am going to die! I will just be _mortal_.”

“Ro, you know just as well as I that the few decades you will have left won’t be longer than a few blinks for us.”

Silence.

“So you would rather see me living eternal life alone than spending a mortal lifespan with the man I love, growing old with him and finally reuniting with him in death?  Do you not believe I would fade away if he died anyway?”

The silence dragged on even longer this time and was finally broken by a drawn-out sigh.

“He will have to agree first.”

“I will talk to Harry soon. I-“

“How about now?”

Harry stepped into the sparsely moonlit clearing, causing both elves to jump in surprise. To be honest, the brunet was surprised that they hadn’t heard him already, but the nearby stream was a constant source of noise and the moss had most likely absorbed the sound of his by now very light steps. He probably should have returned to the camp without revealing himself, but he just couldn’t ignore what he had just heard.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation. I was just-“ Coughing lightly, he waved vaguely at the general direction of the woods to indicate everything from a need to relieve himself (the truth) to taking a mid-night stroll through the undergrowth.

“Anyway, what’s this about turning mortal, fading and all that stuff?” The brunet queried, his eyes narrowing at the twins. Having an idea about the discussion’s content, Harry’s heart had started to pound away in his chest, almost beating out of it. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions, though. He had learnt from his mistakes, after all.

Elladan scrutinised his brother and Harry in quick succession, before beating a hasty retreat without comment. Harry stared after him for a long moment, then refocussed his attention on Elrohir, who came as close to fidgeting as the wizard had ever seen him.

Finally, the older brunet stepped closer to ease the lines on Harry’s forehead with a kiss. “I had not planned to tell you like this… this is all Dan’s fault…,” the elf muttered and sighed. “Where to start?”

“The beginning is always a good starting point.”

Elrohir shot him an unimpressed look, but Harry spotted a light twitch in the corners of his mouth and the minute lessening of tension in his shoulders. 

“The beginning…, as you wish. A year ago you agreed to see if there could ever be more between us than friendship and the heart stopping horror of seeing you run unflinchingly into danger. I am very impressed by the recent lack of near death situations, by the- ouch, you barbarian! No reason to hit me for telling the truth.”  Elrohir rubbed his hand dramatically over his smarting biceps and frowned at the wizard, who just shot him an unrepentant, if slightly shaky grin. “Anyway, I think we have come far since then, do you agree?”

Harry flushed slightly while thinking back to the countless shared kisses and touches, both passionate and soft. They had explored each other’s body as far as Elven customs allowed without being married, which meant they hadn’t had actual sex. Apparently joining bodies more or less equalled marrying the other person. Other steps were usually involved, but the carnal part was the one of most relevance.

 In addition to the added physical side of their relationship, they had continued to share stories, had fought side by side and teased each other. Gradually “I like spending time with Elrohir” had morphed into “I don’t want to live without Elrohir”. It wasn’t the all-consuming desperation, which had urged him to follow the twins to the Dúnedain, either. Then, he would have happily leapt forward if a path to his old world had opened in front of him. Now, though, now he’d stay at Elrohir’s side, no matter what.

He had declared his love to Elrohir a week after that epiphany.

“Yes,” Harry whispered through the lump in his throat and was rewarded with a blinding smile that was always only directed at him.

“Then will you… marry me?  As you know, there would be at least a year until the actual ceremony and we still have to craft rings and go back to Imladris for the betrothal. And we can, of course, incorporate wizarding customs, if you want; you are not an elf, after all. I do not want to push all of-“

“You’re rambling.” Harry interrupted with a wobbly grin, as he put a finger upon Elrohir’s lips. “I will. Marry you, I mean. Actually…” The brunet summoned a sachet from his pouch, which revealed a single silver ring. “…I had plans to ask you, too.”

Elrohir stared wide-eyed at the ring, then at Harry, before meshing their lips together in a passionate kiss that was gladly reciprocated.

When they came up for breath minutes later, both were breathless but beaming. There was still one thing to clear up, though.

“Ro, how old do you think I am?”

“Why would-”

“Just answer my question, please.”

“Well, you told me wizards live longer than men, so I assume about fifty years?”

“Hm, that’s… actually not far from the truth. You’re thinking in terms of Dúnedain aging, though. Wizards age, more or less, like men do, they just stay alive longer and are more vital in old age, whereas the Dúnedain age slower in general.  For all intents and purposes I should look middle-aged, not like this.” Harry waved at the general direction of his face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a twenty year old human.

Elrohir frowned “Then why-“

“I… hate talking about it, but, I guess, I should have told you a lot sooner…” Harry hesitated for a moment longer, before pressing on. “When I was still in my teens, I came into the possession of magical objects that are called the Deathly Hallows. They were allegedly created by Death and owning all of them makes you ‘the Master of Death’,” Harry air quoted the last part for emphasis. “I can’t say anything about the veracity of that title, but fact is, I haven’t aged a day since my body’s reached full maturity. I’m unsure if I’d stay dead if I’d ever be killed - don’t look at me like that, I don’t plan to find out -  but the chances are pretty high that I won’t die of old age any time soon if ever,” the brunet explained with a crooked grin. “So let’s keep your immortality intact for now, yeah?”

His only answer war another breath-taking kiss.

~*~

A knock on the door snapped Harry out of his thoughts.

“Come in.” He figured it was Elladan, send out to fetch him, because the brunet had taken longer than expected to dress up.

He was wrong.

The dark-haired elf stepping into his room turned out to be none other than his future father-in-law, Lord Elrond of Imladris.

“Elladan asked me to come get you in his stead. Otherwise, as the better looking one, he was afraid of making you doubt your decision of marrying Elrohir at the last moment. Or so he told me,” Elrond explained with an indulgent smile at the well-known antics of his children. One of which would finally be married on this very day.

Harry snorted. “So very considerate.” The brunet eyed his reflection one last time and smoothed out his already pristine tunic with clammy hands, before taking a deep breath and stepping towards the door.  Elrond squeezed his shoulder in encouragement.

“When you first came to Imladris, you were lost in the darkness. Alas, I did not know how to relumine the light in your life. I am glad that my sons managed to accomplish what I could not and to officially welcome you to the family as the consequence.” With these words, Elrond led the gaping wizard to the banquet hall (which really was more of a covered patio), where Elrohir and Elladan were already waiting for them.

His husband-to-be was wearing a matching outfit to his, but the circlet adorning his forehead certainly suited the elf a whole lot better than him. To be honest, Elrohir looked pretty dashing in general… not to mention alluring…

“Sorry, didn’t mean to take that long.”

Elrohir returned his shaky grin with one of his own.

“I was beginning to think you were already on the other side of the mountains,” the elf quipped, but only sounded half joking. “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded determinedly and together they stepped into the view of the wedding guests, which consisted of Dúnedain and the elves of both Imladris and Lothlórien. Unfortunately they hadn’t been able to contact Gandalf, who was probably gallivanting somewhere in Middle Earth. They greeted everyone with smiles and waves, but didn’t stop until they reached the dais upon which they would carry out the official, social part of the wedding.

Considering Harry’s lack of elven family or available relatives in general, they had opted to use the war version of the ceremony. Instead of their parents asking for the blessing of the Valar, they softly spoke the words themselves. Harry had diligently learnt them by heart and was relieved to not trip over them now. When both of them fell silent, they removed each other’s betrothal ring and inched a golden band onto the index finger of the right hand.

With that, the elven part was finished, the ceremony, however, was not.

Long ago, when his two best friends were planning their wedding, Hermione had told him about all kinds of wedding practices magical folk (had) used. One of them had struck a chord in him. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t remember all the words, anymore, but the important bits were still firmly fixed in his mind. This morning, Elrohir and he had planted a new tree near the training field by the river to symbolise their married life. It would grow with every year they were bonded.

Instead of rings, they now exchanged bracelets, crafted out of silver and inscribed with protective runes.

Re-joining their hands and staring into each other’s eyes, they recited the words Harry had been able to remember, “I promise to share with you the warmth of long days, the bounty of harvest, the trials of long nights and the joys of spring.”

To everyone’s surprise, especially to the new spouse’s, the runes started to glow like they would have done during a bonding between wizards and witches in whichever constellation. It was the sign of the partner’s magic infusing the runes with more power. They hadn’t been sure if Elrohir was magical enough to accomplish this feat, but Harry had been happy enough with the symbolism of the bracelets. To see the soft light and feel the tingling warmth was simply breath-taking.

Amidst the clamouring cheers of the guests, they sealed their union with a rapturous kiss.

**_Rule number 5:_ ** **_Always in life bad times will lead to great times. (M. Night Shyamalan)_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to put as much Tolkien elven marriage customs as possible into this. The wizarding part of the ceremony is based on Saegoah bonding ceremonies.


	6. Birth of a Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter ran away from me, so I decided to cut it in two.

Harry felt off.

Had felt off for the last few days, in fact, and couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason. It wasn’t the “immediate danger” niggling in back of his mind, at least, but at times the feeling drove him to distraction and to him that was a no go even in Imladris.

Elrohir, his husband of more than a decade by now, had quickly noticed his irregular bouts of absentmindedness and was even now sending him concerned glances from the other side of the lunch table. Not particularly subtle ones, either. The brunet wouldn’t be surprised if anyone and their dog was suspecting something going on with him. At least they had the decency to play oblivious.

That quickly changed, when a particular smell from the newly arrived plate hit his nose. Harry had no chance to analyse it further, before bile started to fill his mouth. He quickly scrambled off his chair and almost tumbled over the balustrade in his effort to not be sick all over the patio.

While his breakfast disappeared in the river 300 feet beneath him, a hand soothingly rubbed his back, whereas another kept his hair away from his face. The brunet groaned and lowly slid to the ground, until he was able to rest his temple against the cool marble. The hand on his face disappeared, but moments later a wet cloth gently wiped a variety of unsavoury substances off his skin. When the brunet finally regained his wits, his head was resting against a well-known shoulder.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yeah..,” Harry mumbled, his arms wrapping around Elrohir’s waist almost of their own accord. He hummed softly when the back-rubbing resumed. “I don’t know what happened. I felt sick from one moment to the next… Perhaps it’s something I ate?”

“You have been feeling unwell for the last couple of days, though. Perhaps a trip to the Healing Halls is in order.”

Harry grimaced and burrowed his face deeper into the elf’s tunic.

“Yes, I know. You are not overly fond of healers, but what was the saying? ‘Better safe than sorry’, correct?”

Harry thought about refusing, but unfortunately made the mistake of looking up. So in the end, the concern in Elrohir’s eyes wrung a reluctant agreement from him.

When the healers didn’t find anything wrong with him however, they had to reluctantly let the matter rest. For now, anyway.

Two days later, after daily mornings of throwing up and one dizzy spell, the brunet was sitting in the Healing Hall once again -This time in front of Elrond, who was eyeing him speculatively. “This cannot be… but perhaps…  Harry, might wizards be capable of being with child?”

Harry ignored the strangled gasp next to him to wallow in his own bout of shock. “You… uh… m- mean to say, Ro knocked me up? But…”

“I have never heard of the phrase ‘knocking up’,” Elrond mused, one eyebrow inching up. “-but your symptoms can be construed as signs of early pregnancy. It may be a possibility, then?”

“I…uh… I…” Harry spluttered for another long moment, utterly overwhelmed by the situation. Finally he took a deep breath to pull himself back together. “There are rituals and potions, but I don’t know how those work. I’ve certainly never heard about a natural way. I can’t even guess how that would work biologically. It’s not like I have the right parts.” Just then, a horrifying thought occurred to him, turning his face ashen. “Oh Merlin, I won’t turn into a women, will I?” The brunet was **_very_** attached to his male anatomy, thank you very much.

Elrond put his hands on his shoulders and rubbed them comfortingly. “Calm down. I may not know much about wizards and what their magic is capable of, but I have helped many a child come into this world. It will be alright. First of all, if we are correct and you are indeed with child, you should try eating something small, before leaving bed. That oftentimes helps with morning sickness.”

Harry nodded, still slightly dazed, and chanced a side-glance to his stock-still husband. They had never really talked about having children, having thought it a futile topic. When Elrohir still didn’t react a few minutes later, Harry poked him on the forehead. “I think he’s broken…” Before he had the chance to repeat his manhandling, his wrist got caught in a gentle but firm grip.

“Stop that.” The elf tugged a bit on the arm he had taken captive, until Harry got into kissing-range. He pecked the brunet’s lips and carefully bit into the bottom one. “Do not look so apprehensive, either. I was shocked. I still am, to be honest-“ “Hadn’t noticed.” “-but I’m also very happy and I **know** you are, too.”

True… He _had_ always wanted children of his own, but after ending up in Middle Earth, falling madly in love with a male elf and finally marrying said elf, the brunet had shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. Apparently it hadn’t been an impossible wish, after all, even though the fulfilment had taken quite some time.

“Right. We’ll somehow figure it out, like we do everything else.”

~*~

Harry hated being pregnant. The increasing ache in his back and ankles (and just about every other part of his body) wasn’t even the worst of it. The morning sickness held on for quite a while (though Elrond’s tip had somewhat helped), as did the dizzy spells. One time the world even started spinning while the brunet was climbing stairs and only Glorfindel’s quick reflexes prevented his fall. That was the beginning of his constant shadows, trailing him as soon as he left his rooms.

The brunet understood the caution and even welcomed it to some extent, but it was still so very frustrating. Everything was! Running around, fighting, using magic – It all had been easy just a few months ago. Now even walking was becoming a chore, not to mention the constant bathroom trips and the headaches! And his magic had also become… wonky. Summoning his boots had led to a statue in pieces… He had avoided using magic since then.

But the worst, hands down, was the uncertainty.

How was he going to give birth?

Was the baby healthy or were males supposed to do anything special?

How long would the pregnancy last and how long would the lifespan of his child be?

Questions nobody had an answer to.

Of course not everything was bad. Elrohir was a true gem. He endured Harry’s mood swings without a single complain, fetched him food and offered copious amounts of both massages and encouragements. The way he spoke daily to their unborn child and kissed the bump was quite endearing, as well.

During the ninth month at least one of his questions got answered.

Harry was in equal parts horrified and relieved, when he noticed the forming of a birth channel of sorts. He prayed it wouldn’t be a permanent modification of his body.

When the pregnancy inched its way towards the third week of month ten, the contractions came almost as a blessing.

Almost.

Actually, it was probably the worst time of his life and Harry had no problem with sharing that thought with everyone. The way he swore worse than a sailor and threatened Elrohir with creatively inflicted bodily harm, caused even Elrond to flinch once or twice. Elladan had long since left the premises. The coward.

Elrohir, on the other hand, albeit white as a sheet, stubbornly refused to release Harry’s hand, even though his fingers were in danger of getting crushed by the brunet’s bruising grip.  Finally, after five hours of contractions and labour, their baby girl came into the light of the day.

When the umbilical cord stopped pulsing and the placenta detached itself from whatever was on the other side of the birthing channel, the brunet, exhausted and drenched in sweat, was finally done. His daughter got cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket, before Elrond reverently placed his granddaughter into Harry’s waiting arms. “She’s a bit small, but in good health.”

Harry nodded, only half listening, while he carefully touched the tiny red and scrunched up face. Her ears were slightly pointed and a tuft of black hair was already crowning her head.

“She’s perfect,” Elrohir declared next to him, his voiced clogged by emotions and with a telltale glint in his eyes.

“She really is,” Harry agreed, leaning his head against the elf’s shoulder.

She was certainly worth every second he had been suffering during the last few months and the wizard would ensure she grew up loved and save.

No matter what it took.

**_Rule number 6: Expect the unexpected_ **


	7. Time keeps flowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo… there’re probably two more chapters for The way is the Goal, woo-hoo!

 “Pfff, w-what happened to you? Did Eiri do that?“ Harry spluttered, trying and failing not to laugh. His daughter being the culprit was actually the only plausible explanation why Elrond was currently sporting fluffy, tawny bunny ears, which contrasted starkly with his dark hair.

Despite the new additions to his head, the elf radiated calmness and eyed the dozing toddler in his arms with pride. It was a secret to exactly no one in Imladris that Elrond adored his granddaughter and was prone to spend copious amounts of time with her. “The book I read to her has a drawing of a hare in it and Eirien apparently took a liking to it.”

Smiling widely, Harry stepped closer to gently smooth down his daughter’s wild, black hair, even though he knew it was a lost cause. Potter hair was stubborn like that. “My clever, little girl. I’ll have to teach her, when she gets older. She should be able to do at least easier spells wandlessly.” It was probably easier to start out without a wand than to learn wandless magic after being reliant on a wand for years or even decades like in the brunet’s case. It was most likely a case of turning accidental magic into a conscious action.

“We-“

~*~

“Are you looking at them again, Harry?”

The brunet had already heard the advancing steps, thus wasn’t particularly surprised, when Elrohir appeared next to him and dropped a kiss on his temple. The wizard hummed in agreement and put the moving photograph of Elrond with bunny ears to the side to take a look at the next picture. It showed his daughter as a prospective hairstylist, testing her (non-existent) braiding skills on her poor victim Arwen, who had sat through the train-wreck in the making with a sweet smile on her lips.

Instead of spending his time with music, art or crafting, like elves were wont to do, Harry experimented with magic. He no longer had books or people to teach him things, after all. Not to mention magical artefacts, except those he had brought to Middle Earth.

One of his earlier projects had been to find a way to preserve memories. At first the brunet had tried his hand at creating a pensive, but that plan had quickly been scrapped. He just didn’t have the potion or rune knowledge for such an endeavour. After another couple of failures, the wizard had created a method for copying a snippet of memory to paper; like magical photographs, just without the camera. Unfortunately the transfer only worked for him, but it was a step forward nonetheless.

“Oh, I remember this,” Elrohir exclaimed with a nostalgic smile on his lips, after fishing one of the photographs out of the pile. It depicted two children on a meadow.

~*~

With a lazy flick of his hand, Harry directed the small, colour-changing ball of light to the left and chuckled softly, when Eirien blinked twice, before giving chase again. Estel, having decided that he was a big boy now and much too old for such games, was observing her attentively from a few feet away.  

As children were wont to do, the dark-haired girl stumbled over something, probably her own feet, a few minutes later and fell on her knee.  The crying was imminent, but before one of the adults had the chance to get up, Estel was already next to her, kissing the ‘boo-boo’ better and patting her head. Eirien giggled and hugged the boy, before jumping up and running after the hovering ball like nothing had happened.

“It’s always heart-warming to see them like this,” Gilraen, Estel’s mother, commented softly. She and her son had come to Imladris after her husband Arathorn, the son of Harry’s late friend Arador, had been killed by orcs. Despite being a year younger, the boy had quickly assumed the role of affectionate older brother, primarily due to Eirien’s much slower growth-speed. At eleven years old, she wasn’t even out of toddlerhood. Estel, on the other hand, was about to learn sword fighting soon.

“We probably won’t even have to take action, when she is old enough to have suitors. Estel will singlehandedly dispose of them.”

Harry snorted and shot an unimpressed look in his husband’s general direction.

“’Dispose of’, huh? Well, you’ll most likely have fun intimidating them anyway and demand the moon from them, before giving your blessing.”

Elrohir cocked his head to the side and hummed in agreement. “I will still be the lesser evil, though. You, my dear, won’t hesitate to curse them into the next age, if they are stepping one toe out of line.”

Harry’s only answer was a razor-sharp smirk.

~*~

For a long, silent moment, Elrohir traced the contours of his daughter’s face with his fingertip, before another photograph was pushed atop the one in front of him.

“I still love this one.” Without even looking at Harry, the brunet knew there was a wicked grin firmly fixed on the wizard’s face.  One that didn’t surprise him in the least.

~*~

“Who am I?”

Giggling loudly, the little girl, currently residing in her uncle’s arms, clapped her hands.

“Ada, ada!”

Elrohir smiled proudly and pulled his daughter into a hug.  “Such a clever girl.” The elf rubbed his nose against Eirien’s, before turning her around and pointing at his brother.

“And who is this?”

The girl’s face tuned comically serious. “Dan.”

“Wha-“ The twins exchanged startled glances, not having expected a correct guess.

“How can she tell?” “I don’t know. Perhaps it was a fluke? Let us try again! Who am I?”

Elrohir and Elladan repeated their guessing game twice more, but always got the same result.

At the same time, Harry was sitting on the sidelines, barely containing his laughter. Due to the wedding ring and bracelet people now had a way to tell his husband and brother-in-law apart. Therefore, the two of them hadn’t been able to confuse anyone with their identical appearances for decades.

But as soon as Eirien had been capable of speaking and recognising people, the twins had begun their little game anew. She knew there were two of them, her father and her uncle, but not knowing better at her age, she always defaulted back to ‘ada’, when only seeing one of them.

One day, without the twin’s knowledge, Harry had tried to teach her that the one with the glittering things on his hand was ‘Ada’ and the other one ‘Dan’. Harry hadn’t been sure if she had understood, but apparently she had and the best part was that she refused to tell the two elves anything.

In the end, the brunet couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore. The flummoxed looks and his daughter’s stubborn “Nu-uh.” were just too much for him.

~*~

“I’m still fascinated that she kept it a secret like you told her to,” Elrohir mused, while shuffling through a few more photographs – Eirien riding alone for the first time, Gandalf with a flower crown, Lindir with pink hair and whiskers and finally part of a sword fighting lesson.  

Now _that_ had been a nightmare.

Not so much the lessons themselves, those had been brilliant, but the time leading up to them. As soon as Estel had started with his lessons, his baby girl, who had been fascinated by swords since the beginning, had begged them to teach her, as well. They had tried to explain to her the need to wait a few more years and she had reluctantly accepted the postponement. For all of two months.

By month five Elrohir no longer had had the strength to refuse the pleading glint in Eirien’s emerald eyes and had taught her a few moves with a practice short sword.

And of course Harry had caught him red-handed, exploded into a rage that cost a tree its life and then ignored his very existence for almost two weeks.

Those hadn’t been fun times…

Then, on Eirien’s twenty-first birthday, Harry had finally given his blessing for the lessons to start and it had quickly turned out that their daughter was a little prodigy, when it came to bladed weapons. Bows, on the other hand…

“I miss her so much…”

Elrohir looked up, and was confronted with his husband’s dejected expression, which broke his heart every time he saw it. “I do as well,” he admitted, entwining their fingers. “But it has been seventy years, so it was bound to happen. It will become easier in time.”

“I know… it’s just… hard,” Harry murmured, pulling their connected hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to the elf’s knuckles.

After a moment of gloomy silence, the older brunet straightened up suddenly.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Elrohir pulled a scroll from beneath his belt and held it out to the wizard. “This came by raven. The king under the mountain calls for a council. Apparently they have found Sauron’s ring.”

**_Rule number 7: You can’t avoid the passage of time_ **


	8. Kingdom under the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go, whohoo! Thank you very much for your lovely comments, by the way! Especially those for the previous chapter. ;)

„Wow, if that’s not compensation, then I don’t know, what is,“ Harry mumbled, while eyeing the two ginormous stone statues framing the entrance gate to the kingdom under the mountain. They were… quite impressive to say the least. As was the rebuilt city of Dale at their back, thriving and ever growing since Smaug the Terrible had been defeated. It was a stark contrast to the deplorable ruins he had seen from afar almost a century ago.

When their party reached the gate, Harry directed a disarming smile at the suspiciously squinting guards and held out their invitation. “Greetings. We’re the Rivendell delegation that King Thorin has requested for the Council.”

One of the heavily armoured dwarrows frowned at them, then at the scroll, before taking the latter and unrolling it. After a short perusal, an errand boy – well, errand dwarfling - was sent into the bowels of the mountain to fetch their guide. The half hour wait was spent talking amongst each other, while the guards made a sport out of glaring at them.

Their guide turned out to be none other than Balin, who had surprisingly changed barely at all during the last few decades. His hair and beard were still white as snow and a warm smile was firmly fixed on his lips. “Welcome to the not so Lonely Mountains. We’re very grateful that you have decided to heed our invitation to the Council.” There was some not very subtle snorting from the general direction of the guards, which was ignored by everyone but Balin, who directed a warning look at them. “Let us proceed to the throne room. The way is a long one and we can talk while walking.”

“So… how is the rest of the Company? Is everyone well?” Harry asked curiously, after they had started their trip through the halls of Erebor. He only knew that all of them had survived the “Battle of five armies” – albeit with a very close brush with death in the king’ and  princes’ case. The brunet did not, however, know what they were up to nowadays or if they were even still alive. Several decades had passed, after all.

“Oh, they’re all fine, no need to worry. We’re all too stubborn to die or even retire,” Balin chuckled, while leading the group through an ornate gate, followed by a flight of stairs. A flight of stairs that connected to the mountain rock on one side and to certain death in form of an abyss on the other. Harry had never been gladder about Gryffindor bravery and his lack of acrophobia. He dared a short look over his shoulder and offered Elladan’s pale but stoic face a grin of encouragement, before turning back around to listen to Balin’s recounting. “The king has grown into his role as ruler and we’re flourishing once more. As is Dale. I assist the king as an advisor. The princes have settled somewhat, but their heads are still full of mischief more often than not. Fili is furthermore trying to win the hand of a dwarven damme at the moment. Oin is working as a healer, while Glóin oversees the smitheries. Bofur went back to mining, but unfortunately he’s currently sporting a broken leg. Bombur is employed as one of the royal cooks and my brother Dwalin trains the new soldiers and guards. Nori… well, who ever knows what Nori is up to at any given moment? His brother Ori, in any case, is responsible for the library and Dori keeps on mother henning him as if he’s still a dwarfling.”

“And your resident hobbit?” Elladan prompted and raised an inquiring eyebrow. “How does he spent his days now that Sauron’s ring has been found and - no offence meant, but - why is he staying here at all? I had thought he would return to the Shire after fulfilling the objective of your quest.”

“He found love during our journey and in the Shire only an empty Hobbit hole awaited him, thus his decision to stay here.” Balin explained, a fond smile tugging at his lips. Unfortunately, it was quickly replaced by a deep frown. “He has not come out of his rooms in weeks. I haven’t seen him in the same period of time, but according to Thorin, Bilbo has aged more in those few weeks than in the last decades. It’s hard on him. It’s hard on all of us, because we did not notice anything. It was pure chance that Bofur found the ring, he-“

“Master Balin!”

The dwarf in question stopped in his tracks and turned to the young-ish dwarf running towards them as if a hell hound was dogging his steps. The guard slithered to a stop in front of them, short of breath and with panic clouding his eyes.

“Master Balin, the elfs, they’re… one of them… and then the other…. spectators…,” the dwarf wheezed and pointed furiously at the passageway he had come from.

“Lad, take a deep breath and then tell me again what happened,” Balin told him with a calm voice, while Harry’s group exchanged curious and slightly vary glances amongst themselves.

“One of the elves challenged another one to a fight and now they are blocking the whole sector seven main hallway. There’s already a huge group of spectators, as well. ”

“Oh dear…” Balin turned around. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I have to take care of this matter. He will escort you to the throne room in my stead.” He gestured to the dwarf who had come running and was now eyeing them nervously.

Elrohir smiled. “There is no need to apologise. May we join you instead? Perhaps we can be of help.”

For a long moment Balin looked conflicted, but at last reluctantly nodded his assent. “Then, if you’ll follow me.”

“Look at you, being all nice and polite,” Harry teased quietly, his lips already forming a smirk.

Elrohir shot a playful glare at his husband, while deliberately ignoring his sibling’s faint snickering. “I’ll have you know that I’m the epitome of good manners!”

The following loud snort caused Balin to take a look over his shoulder and eye them with a raised eyebrow. After a moment he shook his head with a deep sigh and obviously settled on ignoring them.

“Sure, and I’m actually an Ent,” Elladan quipped.

“That explains why you take so much time, getting things done,” Harry contributed with a mischievous grin and added a shoulder bump, when the elf’s mouth turned into a melodramatic pout. “But… do you also have a bad feeling about this?”

“About the fight?” Elladan enquired after dropping his arm around the wizard’s shoulders. “I have a hunch, yes, and I think we’re about to find out if it’s true.” He unnecessarily pointed at the cheering crowd of elves, humans and dwarrows, which had come into view after rounding a corner.

And right in the middle of the hustle and bustle were indeed two people, going at each other in a whirlwind of blades and hand-to-hand combat.

As Harry watched with a long-suffering sigh, the taller of the two landed a hard hit, causing their opponent to crash to the ground. The fall didn’t mark the end of the fight though. As the estimated victor lunged forward to execute the finishing blow, their legs were kicked out from beneath them in a great show of speed and agility. For a moment both fighters tumbled over the floor, their difference in colouring the only way to tell where one ended and the other begun, until they came to a sudden halt with one of them crouching over the other one. Both of them pointing their respective knife at a vital part of their opponent’s body and _smirking_.

With a huff, Harry crossed his arms and twirled his index finger to cast a wandless _sonoro_ on himself to be heard over the cheering and wolf-whistling crowd.

“I think an explanation is in order and an apology to the dwarrows of Erebor for being a nuisance!” The brunet saw the smaller of the two flinch and blanch to a nice shade of chalk white, while the other one grimaced.

Good.

Both of them scrambled to their feet in record time and half a minute later a pair of emerald green eyes was staring up at him, trying for innocence and utterly failing. “Hi dad! I… uh missed you?”

Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow and continued to eye his fidgeting daughter, who had spent the last few month in Lothlórien, until Eirien broke under the ‘You’re in so much trouble right now’-staretm the brunet had perfected pretty early on after becoming a father. It had to happen. Elrohir was a total pushover, when it came to their daughter, after all. Even now, the coward was watching from behind his grinning brother _and_ a wide-eyed Balin.

“But dad, you don’t understand! Tauriel’s the head of the Mirkwood guard and she has those really awesome daggers! I just had to fight her and she’s really, really good,” Eirien gushed and beamed at the taller redhead, whose hand had been captured by the brunette and who tried very hard not to look at Harry’s general direction. The wizard studied the twin blushes on their faces and groaned. It figured it had to be someone from that pompous arse’s kingdom… Oh well, as long as his little girl was happy, he’d deal with it.

“Indeed, she is and so are you,” the brunet agreed and ruffled Eirien’s mop of Potter hair, before pinching her cheek. “But you’ll still rue the day, when you decided to test her skills in the middle of our host’s main hallway.”

He had really missed his little hellion.

**_Rule number 8: Your children may be devils in disguise, but you still love them._ **


	9. The Way is the Goal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the final chapter. I’m curious what you think about the end. Some of you probably won’t like it, but I think it fits in nicely with the flow of the story.

Harry was slowly but surely going crazy.

For the last month, his reflection had developed a life of its own. Sometimes it was just blurry around the edges, but other times it turned into a wild maelstrom of colours. The brunet wasn’t the only one who had noticed the problem, either. Everyone could see it, but none of them had found the source of the phenomenon, yet. It was neither caused by his magic nor Eirien’s and nobody else in Imladris had the magical aptitude to mess with his reflection like that.

And speaking of his baby girl… this was a very inconvenient time to have such a problem, because Eirien’s engagement banquet was just around the corner. Harry was still kind of fascinated that the brunette had finally convinced Tauriel to take the next step in their relationship. Though on the other hand… he probably shouldn’t be. His daughter was just as stubborn as her parents.

With a last aggravated look at the colourful mess in the mirror, Harry stepped out of the rooms he shared with Elrohir when staying in Imladris. On the way to his first meal of the day, he nodded at the few passing elves in greeting and finally arrived at a large patio. Breakfast was already in full swing, but the twins, Eirien and Tauriel were still absent. Those morning people and their spars…

He dropped down next to Elrond, who he greeted with a mumbled ‘Good morning’. The older brunet smiled indulgently and placed a cup of steaming tea in front of Harry. “Cheers.” Sipping at the still hot beverage, the wizard closed his eyes and relished in the sunrays warming his back.

“Harry!”

Blinking his eyes open again, Harry turned his head to the side, but Elrond was in the midst of a conversation with Erastor. The seat next to him was still empty and nobody was even looking in his direction. The brunet frowned and was about to file the call of his name away as a product of his imagination, when he heard it again. This time it was a bit louder, but reverberating, making it hard to pinpoint the source. And the voice… it was niggling at the back of his mind, yet he couldn’t quite match it to a face.

“Harry? Is something wrong?” Elrond had apparently noticed his constant fidgeting and turning on his chair. Not to mention the deep frown lining the wizard’s forehead.

“I don’t know. I keep hearing my-“

“ **Harry!** ”

The brunet swivelled back around to the table and gasped in wide-eyed astonishment. Silver plates, cups, cutlery – Everything reflective in front of Harry didn’t show him or even a whirlwind of colours, but a young woman with bushy, brown hair, who he barely recognised after all these years. He quickly removed the remaining food from a plate and tilted it towards himself.

 “H-hermione? Is that you? What-“

“Oh Harry, I’m so glad to see you! Are you alright? Where did you end up? I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this spell to work, but now that we can communicate with each other, it should be easier to find a way to get you back home. I found a book, which…“

While the brunet was still staring at his former best friend’s face, his mind hadn’t quite caught up to the current situation.

He had spent decades searching for a way home, while wallowing in crushing misery and hopelessness. Then Elrohir had entered his life and chipped away the longing and anguish, until nothing but sporadic bouts of abstract nostalgia had remained. Harry couldn’t even remember the last time he had thought about his life before coming to Middle Earth. So yes, he was quite overwhelmed by suddenly being confronted with his distant past.

Startling back to the present, when arms wrapped around his shoulders, Harry forced himself back into a semblance of control. Before he had the chance to explain the situation to Hermione, however, Eirien, who was the one draped over him, already started to prattle.

“Woah, are you really Hermione? Is Ron also there? Dad’s told me about all of your adventures, you know? My favourite is the one where he slays the basilisk with lhûgdagnir and-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Hermione, gaping at them like a fish out of water, was pushed out of the ‘screen’ to make room for a redhead. It took Harry a moment or two to identify him as Ron – not because he had changed, but rather because remembering their faces was difficult. “Did I just hear the word ‘dad’? And she meant you, mate? It’s been a month; how the bloody hell can you have a grown-up daughter? She doesn’t exactly look adopted, either!”

Oh.

Upon seeing Hermione’s youthful face, the brunet had suspected that time passed differently in Middle Earth… but to such a great extent? He idly wondered how a conversation between their worlds was possible under such circumstances, but quickly shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

“Yes, this blabbermouth is my daughter Eirien.  And as to how that’s possible, well… apparently time goes by a bit quicker where I am.  It’s-” For a long moment, Harry debated with himself whether or not to disclose a more detailed timeframe, but in the end decided to press on with a wry smile. “It’s been about one hundred and fifty years since I last saw you guys…”

With a loud clatter, the medium, which his friends used to contact him, fell to the floor and showed him their ceiling. For a minute or two the image remained, until Hermione was in front of him again, looking distinctly paler than before.

“But you- you don’t look any older. How-“

“I’m… uh… I’m not quite sure. I guess, it’s due to the Hallows, but… well, let’s leave it at that. How about I introduce you to everyone else and then I’ll tell you what I've been up to since I landed in Middle Earth?”

After receiving a dazed nod, the wizard looked up and was surprised to see the patio almost empty. Elrond was still sitting next to him, looking equal parts curious and concerned, while Eirien hadn’t yet released him from her hug. A glance to the side revealed Elladan, Tauriel and Elrohir and for some reason his husband was white as a sheet, his hands clenched hard enough to turn the knuckles white also. Had something happened during training?

Without further ado, the brunet put the plate back onto the table, shrugged out of the embrace and got up. Frowning, he stopped in front of Elrohir and inspected the elf for injuries. When he didn’t find any, he looked back up and directly into a pair of clouded, grey eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Elrohir opened his mouth to tell him, but no words found their way over his lips. Finally he just dragged Harry into his arms and held him close enough to make breathing difficult. It was almost like- oh.

“Ro…” The brunet wriggled long enough to free his arms from the tight embrace, so that he was able to cradle the elf’s face in his hands. “You know that I won’t leave you, right?” He nodded to the bracelet still encasing his wrist. “I promised to share with you the warmth of long days, the bounty of harvest, the trials of long nights and the joys of spring, remember? No matter if it’s possible to go back to my old world or not, I have no intention of breaking my promise. **_This_** is my home now, **_you_** are my home and that won’t ever change.”

“Wow, that was really soppy,” the older brunet muttered with a slightly rough voice, though his lips formed the same smile, the wizard had always loved. “But I feel the same. Always.” And as if to seal their words, vows almost, Elrohir leant forwards to press his lips against Harry’s, who gladly reciprocated.

The brunet didn’t know what the future would bring. If he’d ever talk to his old friends again after today, if he’d have any more children or if there’d be another big evil trying to wreak havoc.

But he was ready to enjoy life while time passed, with his family by his side.

**_Rule number 8:  The way is the goal, after all._ **


End file.
